Hiding Place
by Fleur de Givre
Summary: "It's okay," he says, "nothing's gonna harm you, not here. Remember? This is your hiding place." It's an easy thing to believe, and you fall asleep, huddled up in his arms. Shisui/Itachi, kind of.


_(Hi everyone! I was feeling a little bit gloomy tonight, so here's some Shisui/Itachi. I don't know, this just needed to come out finally. These characters are property of Masashi Kishimoto, I'm just torturing them.)_

Hiding Place

It all started in a bed. As weird as it may seem, this is where it all began. It's nothing, really. But it's the only thing you had back then, the only few minutes you were allowed to freely escape from what used to be your life. The only place you were allowed to cry, somehow, even when the tears didn't want to be shed. And then, the darkness would slowly uncoil and creep inside your head as soon as your eyes closed. The nights were as restless as the days, but at least there were these sacred few minutes before falling asleep and after awakening.

It first changes when he irrupts in your life, all smile and laughs – that you only see as grimace and shouts. Disturbing, annoying. He says he is your friend. He wants you to play with him (shinobi games, really, how does that even work?) and to help him paint the town red. He wants you to act like a child again, but you don't. You can not. He understands, though, and doesn't seem to mind at all – because he is your friend.

One night, he somehow happened to be sleeping at your house. It is the first time not being alone during the sacred minutes, and it is scary. You've fallen asleep while he was talking – you haven't spoken a word in hours anyway, so it doesn't matter much. And darkness has come, that monster whose multiple heads were war, blood and loss. Your chest hurts, tightening with pain, and ridiculous whines are escaping from your throat. The hand that reaches out to touch your scalding skin frightens you, but then your eyes flutter open, and what you see isn't a monster – rather a familiar face wearing a worried frown, deep brown eyes nestled under long lashes. There wasn't much left of the Uchiha's pride when you suddenly burst into tears and your arms emerged to hold on to the other's childish frame, desperately.

He doesn't mind, though. He never did.

You are not alone anymore during your sacred minutes, and it is fine. He being there is a somehow comforting thought. That means you can fall asleep without dreading the nightmares, because, eventually, the soft warmth of his palm is here to lead you away from the pain. His hands then caress your hair, and as he's throwing the sheets under your heads, he watches you with that same smile that brings light even in the darkest places. "Don't worry. This is your hiding place, this is yours. You can let it all go, I'll protect you. I've always been a better shinobi than you are, anyway." His breath soothes you, and, even when your eyes close again, you can still see the corners of his mouth slightly lifted up.

It changes again, because of you. You're both grown up, now, yet you can only sleep well on the nights he's with you. It's like a ritual, now. It doesn't matter that you are an ANBU, spreading around the same nightmares that once used to plague you. It doesn't matter that you give death and bring grief. You're nothing more than a child, and will never be more – no, not to him, at least. In this hiding place, you're no longer a raven roaming the skies like a bad omen. You're just a snowdrop nestled in tar, suffocating. He can see this, he is the only one who can. This night, you wake up with the idea that you're dead. He tries to comfort you, but you don't feel anything – and this, this is just the scariest thing you've ever been through. Everything is cold – from the hand that rest on your cheek to the light reflecting in obsidian orbs ; cold. You press further into the touch, desperate, but your eyes are unable to show anything. He seems clueless, a hint of sorrow glitters in his look. He then puts his arms around you, and holds you close. You struggle to get closer, gripping him, breathless. He whispers something but you don't hear it. Maybe you're gripping him too tight. You can feel his heartbeat under your skin – because yours has disappeared minutes ago – and it's painful. You can feel the warmth of his body burning yours – so cold – and it's intoxicating. There is a soft touch, and you realize you are crying and shaking like a pathetic leaf in the wind. Because he can't let go of you, his lips are now caressing your face, trying to soothe you, in vain. He is still talking, you're still deaf. He gives you the kiss of life, and you're sucking in his air like a newborn, for what seems to be the first time. But you don't want to detach yourself from him – how would you breathe? You want to live like that, with his air in your lungs and his heartbeat resoning through your empty shell. "I don't wanna be dead." You're not afraid of dying, but _being dead_ is something else. This is what you say to him, and he smiles to make the fear in his eyes disappear. He runs one hand through your hair, scattering it, now a halo of darkness surrounding your pale face. You are the witness of your own resurrection, and it is not long until you start to see stars dangling from the black lashes, so desperately at reach. Not a single sound comes from your panting mouth, though. "It's okay," he says, "nothing's gonna harm you, not here. Remember? This is your hiding place."

It's an easy thing to believe, and you fall asleep, huddled up in his arms.

It changes one last time. Shisui's not here. This... This is a strange feeling. You were not prepared for it. You never thought he could disappear. You don't cry when the night slowly falls, and the wind brings you nothing. You stay up late, alone in your room, facing the empty bed, the empty place, the empty air, the empty you. You don't want the minutes before you fall asleep to end – even if they are cruel. It takes you days before you are able to finally crawl into your sheets again. You know something is missing – but it's not like the void wasn't here before. And when the nightmares greet you with their nameless heads, you throw the sheets over your head and you whisper to yourself that nothing's gonna harm you here. Nothing. You don't cry anymore, and you fall asleep with your arms around your chest, as if you were afraid of losing yourself – or just a faint reminder that, in your hiding place, he's still there to protect you. Maybe.


End file.
